


Send My Love

by rhea_tam



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Badass Katsuki Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Danseur!Katsuki Yuuri, Jealousy, M/M, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Russian Mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhea_tam/pseuds/rhea_tam
Summary: There were times Yuuri figured he had done something awful in a previous life. Nothing else would have explained his terrible luck. He watched men and women dancing around in their finest clothes, laughing and joking as if they were having an amazing time. They were amazing actors, yet with how handsomely they were paid, Yuuri expected only the best. Years had passed since he was last at one of these events. The last time he had attended one of these parties, he had been a child, chubby cheeks smiling stupidly at everyone who looked his way.Yuuri preferred those days. Days where he could pretend none of this existed. Days where he could run around the onsen and pretend that lies didn't overrun his life.But life never lets you have a preference. Instead you’re just stuck, even if you hate it.That’s exactly how Yuuri found himself in this predicament.





	1. Chapter 1

Dark eyes watched the figures dance move across the ballroom, wolves hiding as sheep. Years had passed since Yuuri had been forced to attend one of these banquets, yet he could avoid Georgi only so many times before the lovesick fool would grow irritated and pull Yuuri out of his room. After all, they had to show the world that he was living the life of luxury, even if he was a prisoner. He was no better than a canary locked in a gilded cage. So here he was, decked out in a tux and already preparing his escape. He hated these types of events—he wasn’t allowed to wear his glasses, and he couldn’t wear his favorite blue tie.

According to some, it was too hideous for these types of events. 

(And it really was.) 

Just as Yuuri was about to slip away, a voice cut through the crowd. “Oi, Pig,” it barked. Immediately, the Japanese male tensed. What on earth was he doing here? 

Yuuri turned slowly, his eyes softening as he took in the figure who now stood less than a foot away from him. “Yurio,” he replied, his voice light in false kindness. “You’ve gotten taller,” he mused, trying to keep the conversation as superficial as possible. After all, Yuuri loathed the idea of incensing the blonde, especially now that he was no longer the small cherub-faced boy he remembered from ages ago. Or was it just a few months ago? Yuuri could never really tell time these days. 

“Don’t call me that, stupid!” Yuri exclaimed, his jade eyes hard and his jaw tense. Well, that didn’t work out as well as he had hoped. 

Yuuri gave him a sheepish grin, attempting to be as genial as possible. “Sorry, force of habit.” He hated this. He hated that he was stuck here having to converse with these people when all he wanted to do was go home. He would have screamed at the top of his lungs, but it wouldn’t get him anywhere. No, it would just land him in hot water. “Did you need something?” 

The blonde scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Дa, the Old Man wants to see you.” 

Yuuri felt the smile almost slip off his face, but he forced himself to relax. He still needed to play along. “Oh, he’s here? Already?” This was torturous. 

“He wants to see you. Now.” It must have been an order, especially if Yuri’s glare meant anything. 

With a small smile and a nod, Yuuri excused himself, briskly walking through the throngs of people in attempts to leave the main ballroom. At least he looked graceful while doing it. It wouldn't help him to scurry away like a rat. No, he had to be the _danseur noble_ everyone recalled. But he didn't want that right now. He wanted to leave. He _needed_ to leave. Immediately. 

He nearly made it to the door, hand already touching the handle, when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, pulling him backwards to a strong chest. “Yuuri~” the voice called, deceptively sweet. He was trapped. 

“Viktor—” 

“Yuuri, if I didn’t know any better,” Viktor continued, effectively cutting Yuuri off, “I would say you were trying to leave,” the voice drawled once more, the sweetness never subsiding. 

Knowing better than to attempt to turn around or break the hold, Yuuri leaned back, resting his head against Viktor’s chest. “I just needed some air. I forget how stuffy these events could be.” He was worried it wouldn’t work, but at this point, there was nothing else to lose. 

A hum filled the void, and the arms gripping his waist tightened around him. “Be careful, my Yuuri. You know going out by yourself is dangerous.” 

Being in here was dangerous, Yuuri almost snapped back. But he held his tongue. That wouldn’t work. It would only end in more problems later on. Instead, he nodded, trying to be as demure as possible. “Sorry, Viktor.” 

“It’s alright, _moya lyubov_. I’ll always protect you. You know that,” Viktor stated softly, kissing the side of Yuuri’s head. 

Had Yuuri still been the same child he had been all those years ago, he would have smiled, blushed, and maybe even stuttered out a reply. Instead, he could only attempt to keep the bile that clawed at his throat at bay. Anyone who found them at that moment would think they were in love. What a joke. This wasn’t love. This was possession. 

This reminded him of the story of the spider and the fly. When he had been younger, he always asked his mother if spiders like that existed in the real world. After all, the fly knew that the spider was a predator, yet he found himself caught by the spider’s honeyed words and his even deadlier web. Yuuri was terrified of the cunning spider, but his mother would smile and move the hair out of his eyes before reassuring him that spiders like the ones in the story didn’t exist. 

Pity. 

If she had only told him the truth, maybe Yuuri wouldn’t have fallen into Viktor’s web.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tokyo, Japan - December 25, 1999**

_Yuuri stared up at the chandelier with bright eyes, gaze filled with wonder. He had begged his parents to let him attend the event, and they finally relented. Five-year-olds had an endless amount of energy, and Yuuri used that to his advantage when trying to get his way. Mari brushed off the ball as a “boring formal event” but that wasn’t important. After all, he had seen balls on television, and they were extravagant. They were something he would never see in Hasetsu._

_He fidgeted with the muted blue tie on his neck, feeling slightly out of place. Everyone at the party appeared to float through the room, even his parents and Mari. Everyone except him. Yuuri stood there, feeling constricted in his fitted suit and wanting to fidget with his glasses. Everyone looked so beautiful, so elegant. He didn’t belong._

_Just as he turned to tell his parents that maybe it would be best for him to return to his room, he blanched. They were gone, whisked away to the other side of the room. He could barely make them out. The only reason he had noticed them was due to their short stature. Nearly everyone else at the party towered over them._

_The man conversing with them was prepossessing. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, and he stood as if he were a king. His lips were piqued into a small heart-shaped smile, but his eyes lacked warmth. Even from across the room, Yuuri immediately noticed his sharp crystal blue eyes. They reminded Yuuri of glaciers. They were nearly inhuman, and they froze Yuuri to the core._

_“Привет!”_

_Yuuri jumped as a hand fell onto his shoulder before whirling around. He was immediately met with the same crystalline blue eyes and heart-shaped smile. “Ah—“ he squeaked, his face growing red. Instead, he raised his hand for a small wave, in attempts to keep embarrassing himself further._

_“Вы понимаете меня?” Again, Yuuri could only stare wide-eyed at the boy before him. This boy was stunning. He stood a bit taller than Yuuri, his long, almost silver hair fanning across his shoulders and down his back. He had a few strands tucked behind his ear to keep from covering his face. However, his eyes, while just as blue as the man who was speaking with his parents, seemed different. Instead of glaciers, his mirrored a storm._

_Yuuri squeaked again when the boy huffed, his previous smile dropping into a tight frown. He watched as the boy crossed his arms, his brow furrowing as if he were deep in thought. Then, in an instant, the boy looked at Yuuri once again. “Hello.”_

_He could understand this! Thank goodness he begged his parents to let him attend English classes with Mari. “H-hello,” he replied quietly._

_The boy perked up. His eyes brightened, and he immediately drew closer to Yuuri. “You understand me! That’s amazing! I was worried I was going to be the youngest person here, but then I saw you walk in, and I was so happy to see someone like me! Makkachin and I had been hiding under the table waiting for the perfect time to pop out and grab the cakes because Makka isn’t supposed to be at the party since not everyone likes dogs—which is kind of crazy, don’t you think? Well—unless you don’t like dogs. But that’s insane! You have to like dogs! Wait, do you like dogs?”_

_Yuuri was lost for words. Not only was he surprised that the boy had managed to rush through that entire thing in one breath, but he was also surprised at the wild arm flailing that accompanied the second half of whatever he said. It had been way too fast; he couldn’t catch everything the boy said. However, Yuuri didn’t remember how to ask for him to repeat what he had just said. But he had caught the boy’s last question, and he hoped just an answer to the boy’s question would suffice. So with his cheeks tinged a rosy pink, he shyly nodded. “I d-do… like dogs.”_

_The next thing he knew, the silver-haired boy snatched his wrist and dragged him across the party. Yuuri squawked in confusion and was about to say something when he was met with the most adorable thing he had ever seen. Tucked away under one of the drink tables lay a large brown poodle watching them with twinkling eyes. When he and the mysterious boy drew close enough, Yuuri watched the poodle jump up and rush to them, attacking the taller boy with kisses. “This is Makkachin! She’s perfect and wonderful and my best friend!” The boy explained with a heart-shaped smile._

_The boy then turned to Makkachin, leaning down and nuzzling hair. “Makka, this is—“ the boy stopped, his eyes wide. He stood up, whirling around and gripping Yuuri’s shoulders. “I never got your name!”_

_Yuuri stared wide-eyed at the stranger, his cheeks burning at the close proximity between them. Is this normal in Russia? “M-my name is Katsuki Yuuri,” he stuttered out, almost scared he would be so mesmerized by the boy’s strong gaze that he would forget his own name._

_The answer sufficed, and the boy immediately smiled once again, his blue eyes sparking. “Yuuri~” he parroted, as if trying to get used to the name. “I like it! My name is Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri.”_

_Viktor. What a nice name. It wasn’t until Viktor’s smile grew even wider as he pulled Yuuri in for a hug that Yuuri realized that he had said that out loud. “Yuuri! You’re my best friend!” Viktor exclaimed, pulling the small, chubby boy close._

_Yuuri stood there in shock. This beautiful perfect person wanted to be friends with him? No one wanted to be friends with piggy Katsuki. He had heard it enough times back in Hasetsu, and he was prepared to hear it while he and his parents were on vacation in Tokyo. This must have been a joke. “R-really? You want to be f-friends with someone like me?”_

_Viktor pulled away from the hug but kept Yuuri in arms’s length. His smile once again twisted into a frown, his brow furrowing. “Someone like you? What does that mean, Yuuri?”_

_Yuuri’s brow furrowed as well. “Y-you’re so p-pretty!” Smooth, Katsuki. He felt his face grow hot. Why couldn’t he be more eloquent?_

_But Viktor’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes bright. “You’re perfect, Yuuri~ We must be best friends!”_

_After a few moments of silence, Yuuri hesitantly nodded. “Okay, friends.”_

_Due to his focus on Viktor and his million-watt smile and immediate bear hug, Yuuri missed the flabbergasted gazes of numerous individuals in the room. Worse yet, he failed to see the horrified expression that marred his father’s face or the mirthless smirk that etched itself onto the scary man’s features._

_Pulling away from Yuuri, Viktor immediately grabbed his wrist once again and began pulling Yuuri. “Come on, Yuuri! Let’s go to my room so we can play with Makkachin! We can even draw or play games!” Yuuri’s cheeks tinged red as he found himself completely at ease with Viktor’s actions. He even caught his mother’s gaze and sent her a small smile and a shy wave. He was surprised that his parents were still with the captivating man, but even more surprising was that Viktor was dragging him right towards them. “Papa!” Viktor called out._

_Calculating eyes locked onto Viktor’s and Yuuri’s forms. While Yuuri felt like a shrinking violet, Viktor remained the same. This man would be Viktor’s father. They’re both stunning, even if the man is terrifying. “Vitya,” the man drawled out, his calculating blue eyes narrowing slightly, “who is this?”_

_“This is Yuuri! He’s my best friend! We’re going to play with Makkachin now!” Viktor replied, effervescent and ecstatic. Yuuri stood off to the side, oblivious to his parents’ worried gazes and pleas that their son look in their direction._

_Viktor’s father simply nodded before looking down at the raven-haired boy. His heart-shaped smile returned once again, but it didn’t seem as frigid as it had before. “Hello, Yuuri. My name is Alexei Nikiforov. I’m Vitya’s father.” The man bent down to Yuuri’s level and stuck out his right hand, to which Yuuri hurriedly supplied his own._

_“H-hello, Mr. Nikiforov! Nice to m-meet you!” He replied in a squeak, hoping his English was coming out understandably. After all, there was no way he could speak whatever language Viktor had used on him before._

_Alexei gave Yuuri’s hand a quick shake before letting go and standing at his full height once again. “Run along. Make sure not to leave the grounds,” he said as he straightened out his suit._

_Viktor nodded feverishly before he began to pull Yuuri once more. However, after a few steps he turned and fully faced his father. “Отец,” he called out._

_Blue eyes met blue, and once again, Yuuri was confused as can be. Had he paid more attention, he might have caught the gleam in Viktor’s eye as he made his next statement. “Я хочу его,” he chimed with a sweet smile._

_Yuuri smiled in Viktor’s direction. He and his father must be close._

_Alexei simply nodded before turning back to his parents, speaking once more in his low voice._

_However, Yuuri was unable to dwell on it too long as Viktor tugged him through the crowds. “Hurry, Yuuri! Makkachin is waiting for us in my room!”_

 

**St. Petersburg, Russia - Present Day**

Yuuri awoke with a start, groaning as the sun hit his eyes. It had been years since he had dreamt about his childhood, much less the first time he had met Viktor. Viktor with deep blue eyes and heart-shaped smile. He always seemed so carefree, so cheerful, like he could never hurt a fly. Oh how wrong Yuuri had been. After all, that mistake cost him his freedom. He saw something he shouldn’t have, and now he’s tied to Viktor for all eternity.

Sitting up in his bed, Yuuri let out a small sigh before kicking his legs out from under the covers. It was half past seven, and breakfast would be served in half an hour. As much as he loathed the idea of attending the circus downstairs, Yuuri abhorred the idea of someone retrieving him from his room. Prisoners don’t have the luxury of refusing to leave their rooms. No, instead he stripped himself of his pajamas and made his way to his wardrobe, pulling out a simple blue shirt and black sweatpants. After all, it’s not like he had to meet anyone today.

After washing his face and brushing his teeth, Yuuri slinked out of his room, attempting to make his way through the halls as quietly as possible. He almost made it to the stairwell too, but he had the worst luck. “Yuuri!”

Trying his hardest not to groan, Yuuri's lips formed a tight smile as he whirled around, coming face-to-face with one of his captors. "Mila, you're already back from Italy?" he asked the redhead. Last he had known, she was supposed to be in Rome with Sara Crispino. Maybe something happened?

Mila's smile immediately soured. Ah, a sore spot then. "Well, let's just say it didn't go as well as we thought it would." Really bad, then. Wonderful, breakfast will be torturous.

However, Yuuri simply smiled, quickly patting Mila's arm. "It's alright. I'm sure you still managed." With that, Yuuri turned away and made his way down the stairwell. Even from there, he could hear the clatter of plates and clipped retorts. Great, this was Yuuri's favorite.

Just as he made his way into the dining room, Yuuri barely managed to dodge a plate hurled in his direction. "Good morning, everyone."

Georgi immediately perked up and gazed in Yuuri's direction, likely shocked that Yuuri was the one initiating conversation this morning. "Yuuri, good morning. You're here early."

Yuuri merely shrugged in response before taking his seat, ignoring the broken plate. After all, it would likely worsen once everyone made it to breakfast. Just as he was about to respond to Georgi, the doors burst open and everyone quieted. Yuuri looked to his right, watching as everyone simply stared. It was the typical reaction whenever Viktor Nikiforov walked into a room. Yuuri used to think it was amazing, but now he thought it was ridiculous. Everyone was obsessed with this man.

Viktor glided from the entrance to the head of the table, quickly detouring to peck Yuuri on the cheek. "Good morning,  _solnishko_."

"Good morning, Viktor," Yuuri responded, focusing on the cup of coffee that was set before him. He hated this. He hated being Viktor's prize.

But alas, any snark or sour undertone was lost on Viktor. "I'm so glad to see you up and moving around, Yuuri~ I was worried you weren't feeling well after the ball." Ah yes, the ball. Where Viktor dragged Yuuri away after he attempted to escape, locking him in his cage of a room. Three days had passed before Viktor let him leave, but he's still forbid Yuuri from practicing ballet. That was the sole reason Yuuri even left his room this morning. Ballet had been his entire life; he wouldn't let Viktor or the Bratva take that away from him.

To get it back, he would do anything. "Yes, I feel much better now. I'm worried about all the practices I've missed at the Bolshoi, though. I didn't let anyone know I wasn't feeling well," Yuuri responded sheepishly, hoping Viktor would relent. It was always difficult to tell whether he was in a good mood these days.

However, as he saw Viktor's blue eyes flash dangerously, Yuuri suppressed a shiver. "Don't worry, Yuuri. Lilia let them know that you're not feeling well. They know you'll come back when you do."  _You'll go back when you behave_. The undertone was there, and all Yuuri could do now was not scream. It was times like these he cursed the chubby little five-year-old who fell for Viktor's charms. Had he known he was signing his soul to the devil, he would have run the moment Viktor approached him. But instead, he mimicked Icarus by flying too close to the sun. 

So instead, Yuuri smiles and gives a curt nod. "Wonderful. Thank you, Viktor," he responds as cheerfully as he could. Because gratitude appeases Viktor, and Yuuri needs to appease him in order to return to the outside world.

Viktor's heart-shaped smile returned, and he gazed at Yuuri in an adoring fashion. "Of course, my Yuuri. Anything for you."

Hilarious. Yuuri would have laughed had it not been for the dining room door slamming open. "Yuratchka, what did I say about slamming doors?" Viktor hissed. Yuuri needed to remember to send Yuri a gift for keeping him from laughing in Viktor's face.

"Old man, we need to speak. Now." Yuri's voice was clipped, and blood dripped from a wound on his cheek. While worry bubbled up in Yuuri's chest at the sight of the blonde, he remained frozen in his seat. Yuri's green eyes reminded him of a ferocious animal, and Yuuri doubted the blood staining Yuri's jacket was his own. Because as much as Yuuri loves messing with Yuri, he can never forget that this boy, the same one who loves piroshki and tiger shirts, is a murderer just like everyone else under this roof. 

Viktor's eyes hardened, and Yuuri felt as if he were in the room with Alexei Nikiforov once more. "Office." But that's impossible. After all, he's been dead for years. Yuuri watched as Viktor stood from his chair with the gracefulness of a royal before briskly leaving the dining room, Yuri following right after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Привет! - Hi!
> 
> Вы понимаете меня? - Do you understand me?
> 
> Отец - Father.
> 
> Я хочу его - I want him.
> 
> Okay, so we're seeing a little bit into Yuuri and Viktor's past, and we had baby!Yuuri and smol!Vitya meet for the first time! I know it's a little disjointed right now, but I promise we'll get to why Yuuri is so angry at everything. He has a good reason for it; I promise! (Well, maybe).


	3. Chapter 3

**St. Petersburg, Russia -- October 1998**

_Viktor always watched his mother flit from one side of the room to the other, her towhead blonde hair always catching the light in such a way that she appeared angelic. Her Russian held tinges of Greek, but Viktor still loved her all the same. After all, she was Mama._

_He would pointedly ignore how she would tense when Papa were in the room, turn a blind eye when she would cower at Viktor’s sharp gaze. Mama was happy underneath it all. She had to be. That’s why she and Papa had him._

_“Vitya,” she chimed out sweetly. Viktor could see her making her way towards him, her simple dress fluttering in her wake. “It’s time to practice languages, μάτια μου.”_

_He huffed in response. “I hate language,” he hissed out. His tutor always gloated about the amount of languages he could speak. It made Viktor feel stupid. Plus, he always tried to talk to Mama in Greek, and it made Viktor feel left out._

_“But Vitya, don’t you want to communicate with Mama in her home language?” She tried again in attempts to get the boy downstairs to his Greek tutor. Her words caused Viktor to whirl in her direction._

_“Russian is your home language now, Mama,” he snapped._

_Because as beautiful as Mama is, she never looked uglier than when she cried. She always seemed to cry when she remembered her life in Corinth. Sobs would wrack her small frame as she would recall being spirited away by Alexei Nikiforov and the Bratva. Viktor would always catch those moments even though she attempted to hide them from everyone, especially from him._

_So Viktor was doing her a favor by hating languages. That way she would forget about life everywhere else but here in St. Petersburg with Viktor and Papa. After all, even if she cried about it, this was her home now. There was no way she could ever leave. Viktor wouldn’t let her._

_“Mama,” he cooed, taking her dainty trembling hands in his small ones, clutching her fingertips in a vice. “Let’s go play outside instead!” His voice held no room for argument._

_So he watched as his mother weakly nodded, her smile strained and timid._

_Mama could never say no to Viktor. Instead, she nodded slowly. “Of course, Vitya,” she acquiesced._

_Viktor smiled brightly up at her before he dragged her through the halls, ready to go play outside. Maybe next time he could even get Papa to join them._

 

**Tokyo, Japan -- December 26, 1999**

_Yuuri couldn’t stop chattering with his parents after the party, telling them about Viktor, Makkachin, and all the fun they had. “And after we finished building the tower, Makkachin thought that we had called her and immediately ran over! She was running so fast that she couldn’t stop and ended up just knocking everything down. Blocks went flying everywhere, and I was about to start crying. We had worked so hard on it! But Viktor was so nice and jus—“_

_“You seem to really like your new best friend Viktor, Yuuri,” Mari cut in, feeling her head spinning from all the mention of the Russian boy and his dog. There was only so much she could handle, and unfortunately it was difficult to tune out her brother on their way back to their hotel._

_Hiroko and Toshiya simply looked at one another, but Yuuri couldn’t see it. He was too busy waving his hands excitedly, telling Mari that of course he really liked Viktor. After all, he was just so nice, and he 'actually wanted to be friends with Yuuri.'_

_It was then that his parents acknowledged the boy, giving him matching smiles. Both seemed forced and lacked to meet their eyes. “Yuuri,” his mother called out, effectively stopping the stream of conversation._

_“Yes, okaa-san?” He responded, eyes wide._

_Hiroko seemed to pause before continuing. “Speaking of Viktor, his father invited us to have breakfast with his family tomorrow. He was happy you and Viktor became such fast friends,” she continued. Had Yuuri not been so effervescent at the idea of seeing his new friend once again, he would have noticed the tremble in his mother’s voice. Maybe he even would have noticed the tears that were threatening to spill, kept obscured by her glasses. But no, instead he missed everything, too excited to see his first best friend once again._

_Once they made it back to their hotel room, he could barely sleep. How could he? He was going to see his friend again!_

_The next morning, the Katsuki family stood surprised as they all noticed Yuuri, the one who always fussed and made excuses in order not to leave and face the crowds, stood before their beds, dressed in his favorite blue shirt and black trousers, ready to go to breakfast. “Hurry! Viktor’s probably waiting for us!” He exclaimed, aghast at the idea of keeping his friend waiting for long._

_Yuuri’s parents simply stared at him, but he turned and busied himself with other things, missing the matching looks of anxiety they both wore._

_While the expressions did not diminish in the slightest as they finally reached the restaurant, their son chalked it up to traffic. However, even Mari looked weary as they walked in to the restaurant. Yuuri was about to ask what was wrong whenever he felt himself lifted off the ground. He let out a small squeak, looking with wide eyes at the offender. “Viktor!” He exclaimed, taking in the giant heart-shaped smile and glittering blue eyes._

_The silver-haired boy smiled in response, allowing Yuuri’s feet to touch the ground but refusing to let go. “Good morning, Yuuri,” he replied, pecking the smaller boy on the cheek._

_Yuuri’s cheeks flushed red as he gaped at the older boy, likely resembling a fish. However, he was saved from another exclamation and another wave of embarrassment._

_“Vitya.”_

_Yuuri and Viktor both turned, and Yuuri stood frozen once again. Alexei Nikiforov was making his way towards them, looking just as professional as he did last night. However, he switched last night’s tuxedo for a charcoal three-piece suit, no hair looking out of place. To his left, a smaller woman with hair as light and flowing as Viktor’s made her way towards them. She wore a simple dress and wore her hair loose, but she looked as if she were floating. She looked just like the ballerinas he would see on television after begging Mari and Minako to change the channel._

_Once they reached the boys, Alexei immediately redirected his gaze to the Katsuki family, nodding in their direction. “Good morning, Toshiya, Hiroko.”_

_Meanwhile, the woman leaned down to Yuuri’s and Viktor’s level, smiling lightly at the two boys. “Hello,” she chirped mellifluously, head tilted slightly in Yuuri’s direction. “You must be Yuuri.”_

_Yuuri nodded, “Y-yes, I’m Yuu-uri. H-hello,” he choked out, mesmerized by the woman’s long hair and grey/blue eyes. She looked just like a doll._

_Her smile turned genuine. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Vitya’s mother.” She gave him a small pat before standing up, taking her spot next to Alexei. They looked so perfect. No wonder Viktor was so pretty._

_“Ah, I apologize. My name is Callista Nikiforov, Alexei’s wife and Viktor’s mother,” she said, hand extended towards Toshiya and Hiroko. “I apologize for not introducing myself last night, but I didn’t arrive until after the party was winding down. We’re about to end the season, and it’s always hectic,” she explained with a smile._

_Now that Yuuri paid more attention, while her English was good, it sounded a little different from Viktor and his dad. However, he was more curious about another matter. “Season?” He questioned, voice small and squeaky._

_On any other occasion, he likely would have flushed red and stuttered out an apology for interrupting a grown up’s conversation, but Viktor’s mother just smiled down at him, her grey eyes bright and warm. “My apologies, I forget not everyone is used to the terminology. I’m a principal guest artist for the Tokyo Ballet this season. It’s the reason we’re currently in Japan,” she explained, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear._

_Viktor immediately jumped in, taking Yuuri’s hands in his own. “Yuuri, Mama’s a real-life ballerina! You have to see her dance! She’s the prettiest ballerina in the world!” Viktor rushed out, his blue eyes and sparkling._

_Yuuri just stared wide-eyed, looking back and forth between Viktor and his mother who stood, smiling sheepishly._

_Of course she was a ballerina. That’s why she was so pretty; it was why she looked like she floated when she walked._

_Yuuri had started his ballet classes with Minako two years ago after catching part of Swan Lake on the television. The dancers moved so gracefully and effortlessly. It was as if they were floating across the stage, and he wanted to float like that too. Granted, he still had a long way to go. Minako would tell him he was becoming graceful, but he was still chubby and clumsy, and nothing was going to change that._

_He hadn’t realized he had said it aloud until he watched Viktor’s brow furrow, complimenting his mother’s crestfallen and heartbreaking frown. Instead of leaning down, Viktor’s mother knelt before him, her dress fanning out around her. “You’ll be the most graceful danseur out there, Yuuri,” she promised, brushing the hair from before his eyes. “After all, you’ll be trained by the best,” she continued with a small smile._

_Yuuri would have given her a befuddled gaze, but Viktor beat him to it, excitedly crowding his mother and Yuuri. “Surprise, Yuuri! Papa and your parents agreed that you could come to Russia with us for a ballet camp!”_

_Yuuri stared with wide burgundy eyes as he struggled to take in the news. He was going to go where?!_

_Apparently, the Bolshoi’s official school, the Moscow State Academy of Choreography, sometimes held summer intensive courses for fledgling ballet students. Viktor’s mother was one of the principal dancers for the Bolshoi Ballet, and before that, she had been training at the Paris Opera Ballet, so she had leeway with the main instructor, Lilia Baranovskaya._

_He was surprised that his parents had agreed, but he was too happy to question it. After all, he was going to Russia with Viktor, even if it’s only to go to a ballet camp._

_“Thank you, mom! Thanks, dad!” Yuuri rushed out, chubby arms wrapping around their legs and waists._

_Unfortunately, Yuuri missed his parents’ matching worried expressions. He also missed Callista’s pained expression and despondent gaze as Alexei lifted her from the floor, kissing the side of her head and muttering in her ear, “Очень хорошо.” Worst yet, he missed Viktor’s almost manic smile, having muttered a quick “спасибо” to his parents._

 

**St. Petersburg -- Present Day**

Yuuri sat in the mansion's ballet studio, positioned at the barre and attempting to concentrate. Days had passed since Yuri barged in during breakfast. The Crispino's were apparently infuriated with the Bratva, something Viktor must have done without a second thought as to the consequences of his actions. It was a typical occurrence when it dealt with the Russian pakhan. Hot-headed, obstinate, wreckless—Yakov had a plethora of terms he could use to describe Viktor Nikiforov, and Yuuri wholeheartedly adopted them into his vocabulary.

"Oi, Katsudon." The voice echoed throughout the room. Yuuri hid his surprise behind a blank expression. He was never oblivious enough to not notice someone coming in; he was even in a mirrored room! Instead of turning around, Yuuri caught Yuri's gaze through the mirror's reflection. "You look less bloody this time around, Yurio," he said jovially. 

"Cut the shit. I can't stand that look, and you know it. It's almost as nauseating as the old man's smile," the younger blonde hissed out, kicking off his dress shoes before standing at the barre next to Yuuri. It brought a small smile to Yuuri's lips. Even though Yuri always mocked Yuuri for making him take his shoes off when he entered the room, the blonde never disobeyed.

Yuuri missed this Yuri. It pained him to see the Bratva assassin so much of the time, especially since he remembered the years before that. "Sorry, habit," Yuuri murmured as he continued stretching. If he remained still and waited to see what Yuri wanted, his anxiety would go through the roof. He needed to keep practicing, keep himself from becoming rusty. Keep himself from becoming useless as a danseur. 

However, he still kept an eye on Yuri, watching as the blonde ran a hand through his long blonde hair. Yuuri would have offered him a headband, but the one he normally used during practice lay on his dresser in his room. "I spoke to Viktor about it. He agreed that there were too many people at the ball that night. That of course you would have tried to escape instead of suffer the embarrassment of having a panic attack in front of everyone, of showing weakness to that many people." Yuri's clipped tone contrasted greatly with his expressive eyes. Yes, Yuuri missed this Yuri, the little boy who looked up to him and always asked him to pirouette after pirouette. That's why Yuuri treasured these moments where the little boy would rise from the ashes before hibernating once again, hidden from the rest of the world.

"Thank you, Yuri," Yuuri whispered, almost as if he were terrified that being louder would cause this world to crumble.

Yuri's green eyes flashed, and his glare returned once again. "Don't thank me, pig. Just make sure you show the other dancers that even if you were gone, you're still better than them. That'll be thanks enough." With that, Yuri stalked out, not missing stride as he bent down and picked up his shoes before leaving the room.

'Pity, he would have made a beautiful danseur,' Yuri thought to himself.

Yuuri was once again pulled from his musings when he heard the studio's doors open. His burgundy eyes grew slightly colder as he took in the tall frame and the silver hair framing a striking face and even deadlier eyes. "Yuuri," the voice called out to him. 

This time Yuuri did turn around, worried that he would slip and make a sarcastic expression if he relied on his reflection for communication. "Viktor," he replied neutrally.

"I take it Yuratchka told you that we'll be leaving for Moscow soon," he continued as if Yuuri had never spoken. And for all Yuuri knew, maybe he hadn't. He really didn't know what was happening these days. So instead, he nodded, knowing that he couldn't have imagined that.

Will she be there? Yuuri wanted to ask. His kindred spirit, the other Nikiforov prisoner. But he didn't, because that would get him nowhere. After all, Viktor rarely mentioned her these days.

No, he erased her name from the face of this earth when he shot Alexei Nikiforov dead.

So instead, Yuuri smiled at Viktor, trying his hardest to make it reach his eyes. "Does that mean that Bratva activities are shifting to Moscow once again?"

Viktor's eyes immediately lit up, excitement clearly coursing through his body. "Oh, my Yuuri~ I love whenever you're interested in my work!" he exclaimed happily, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's slim waist and lifting him into the air as if preparing for a jump.

Yuuri forced his smile to remain, trying to keep his expression peaceful, happy. It was a harder task than he thought. "Of course I am, Viktor. After all, we're a team," he replied as if he were explaining it to a child. 

He didn't think it possible, but Viktor's expression brightened even further as he spun Yuuri in his arms, ecstatic at the response. "My Yuuri, this may be the happiest day of my life!" With that, he attacked Yuuri's lips with his own.

This was their first kiss in days, and Yuuri melted into Viktor's touch. Well, as much as he could, but it was enough. When Viktor pulled away, he kept Yuuri in his arms, leaning his forehead against Yuuri's. "Everything is moving to Moscow, solnishko. That way I don't have to stay far from you."

Yuuri wished Viktor lived on the other side of the world, but beggars can't be choosers. At least he'll be able to return to the Bolshoi. "That's great. I'm glad," he responded, flashing him a smile. He was doing this for his freedom. That's it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greek Terms:  
> μάτια μου - Greek term of endearment often said to children. It's literal translation is "My eyes" (like for "apple of my eye").
> 
> Russian Terms:  
> Очень хорошо - "Very good"/"Good job."  
> спасибо - "Thank you."
> 
> So now we get to know a little bit more about baby!Viktor as well as the dynamic he was brought up in. I hope you all liked Viktor's parents! There's a reason Viktor's the way he is (albeit he was always a bit unhinged), and I'm trying to also give you guys a peak. One of these next chapters is probably going to be Viktor's POV, so that should clear up some things. 
> 
> Also, I just needed a Yuuri/Yuri friendship moment because I love them so much!


	4. UPDATE

Hi, everyone!

 

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post Chapter 4! My family and I were one of the numerous families affected by Hurricane Harvey. Our house was flooded by the storm, and we're currently both trying to salvage what we can as well as remove all the contaminated parts and furnishings. 

I just wanted to let everyone know that I am NOT abandoning this story. I already had most of the chapters plotted out and outlined, but I'm not in an area where I can sit down, write, edit, and upload the next few chapters (I'm currently uploading this from my cell phone). I'm so sorry for having taken so long, but I truly appreciate all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks. Seeing your support has helped me along this treacherous time. 

As a thank you from the bottom of my heart, here is an excerpt from the next chapter, albeit a rough sketch of it. It's one of Viktor's fondest childhood memories.

 

_"Vitya, stop fidgeting," the voice called out gruffly._

_Viktor immediately stilled, dropping the strands of hair that he had been twirling only moments before. "Sorry, father," he responded, ever the perfect son. As much as he loved spending the day with his father, this was boring. Mama was preparing the house for Yuuri, and he wanted to be there. After all, what if Mama didn't follow his specifications? What if one of the maids disregarded his instructions? So many things could go awry. But no, instead, he was stuck here with his father. This was terrible._

_Alexei responded with a dry stare, his virulent gaze boring into his young son. "Never apologize. Don't show weakness to anyone," he snapped, his blue eyes hard._

_Viktor only nodded, hiding his annoyance. His father was always moody when he was away for too long, but his mood also soured when Viktor spent too much time at home with Mama. He could never understand what went through his father's mind. But maybe that's what made him so good at what he does._

_The small boy turned once again to the scene before him, trying his best to ignore the smell. His father stood in the center of the room, a pair of bloody pliers settled in his right hand. Teeth and fingernails littered the tile around him, and blood splatter stained both Alexei's face and suit. Before him sat a blubbering fool, his screams and cries piercing the room where they all found themselves. The ropes tying his hands to the chair's arms were stained with red, and the gag had been removed nearly an hour ago when Alexei ran out of fingernails to rip off. As fun as this was, Viktor grew bored with the whole thing after his father ripped out the man's second molar. Now it was just taking too long. He had already proffered the information they required. The man was useless. Viktor's father was just playing around at this point. Like a snake toying with its prey before offering the killing strike._

_Why couldn't this just end already? Just as Viktor was about to expel another huff, Alexei turned to him once again, his cerulean eyes boring into Viktor's. "Finish it."_


End file.
